The rain poured in sheets against the windows of Liam's penthouse, drowning out the sirens and the storm rumbling through New York's skyline. Emily stood barefoot on the marble floor, her silk dress clinging to her skin, heart racing.
She had read the letter.
Folded once, tucked inside a worn leather file, it sat open on the dining table. Her hands trembled.
Emily, if you're reading this, it means you found the truth. I never meant for you to see the blood behind the contract. But now that you have... choose. Stay and fight with me. Or leave and live. But know this: I loved you long before I realized it.
— Liam
The truth was in that file: Liam's father hadn't just died—he had been murdered. And Moretti, the man from the gala, had orchestrated it. The marriage wasn't just for show. It was protection. Shielding her from a war Liam knew was coming.
Behind her, the elevator dinged.
Liam.
He stepped into the apartment soaked to the bone, his jacket gone, shirt stained dark by rain and blood. A thin gash marked his cheek.
Emily rushed forward. "Liam!"
He caught her in his arms before she could ask questions. Held her like she was the only anchor in a storm too long endured.
"I told you not to look in the file," he whispered.
"I did. And I'm glad I did."
His grip tightened. "Now you know everything. Who I am. What I've done."
"You think I care?" she asked, pulling back. "You fought to protect what mattered. You fought for me."
A bitter laugh escaped him. "I married you thinking I was using you to keep myself safe. But you were the one who saved me."
Emily traced the wound on his cheek gently. "Did you kill him?"
Liam didn't flinch. "No. But he's gone. For good. I made a deal with someone more dangerous. I've secured our safety... at a price."
Her stomach turned. "What price?"
"Half my empire. I gave it up. All of it. The board, the control. The money. Everything my father built."
She stared at him in disbelief.
He searched her eyes. "I didn't want you to live in a cage of blood and shadows. If I had to choose between the business and us... I chose us."
Tears welled up. Not from fear. From knowing.
From love.
"You idiot," she whispered, stepping closer. "You could've talked to me. We could've made the choice together."
He cupped her face. "You still want this? After all of it?"
"I didn't marry you for money or safety," she said. "I stayed because when I looked in your eyes... I saw someone just as broken as me. But strong. And brave."
"And in love?"
She smiled through her tears. "Hopelessly."
He kissed her. This time there was no hesitation, no fear, no pretending. Only truth. Only two people who'd walked through hell and found home in each other.
When they pulled apart, she pressed her forehead to his. "What happens now?"
"We start over," he said. "No contracts. No lies. Just us."
She reached into her purse, pulling out the original marriage contract and tearing it in half.
"That's the only paper I'll ever sign for you again."
He raised an eyebrow. "Not even divorce?"
"Try it," she said, smirking, "and I'll make sure your next wife finds your body in a dumpster."
He laughed for the first time in days. Loud. Genuine. Alive.
---
One Year Later
The beach in Montauk glistened under the morning sun. Emily sat on the porch of their quiet getaway home, sipping tea, her baby bump round beneath a flowing dress.
Liam stepped out barefoot, holding two coffee mugs and a newspaper tucked under his arm.
"You're glowing," he said, kissing her head.
"I'm huge."
"You're perfect."
They sat in silence, waves crashing in the distance. No bodyguards. No threats. Just peace.
"How's the new company?" she asked.
"Smaller. Less power. But more mine," he replied.
"And us?"
He looked at her. "Always more."
She rested her hand over his. "You saved me."
"No," he whispered. "You married me by mistake. And made me believe in fate."
They kissed again—this time not out of fear, not out of desperation—but simply because they could.
Because love, real love, doesn't ask for permission.
It just is...